How Many Silver Linings in a Thunderstorm?
by Moonglow gal
Summary: Four 5 year olds have been orphaned and sent to Shikon Orphanage, where they quickly form a lasting friendship. Ten years later, their 16th birthdays are looming on the horizon, forcing them to face the challenges of adult life in treacherous Shikon City.
1. Living Nightmares

**How Many Silver Linings in a Thunderstorm?**

**Chapter One: Living Nightmares  
**

_Hey everyone, Silver Linings is back, and hopefully MUCH better than ever!_

_Perhaps some of you are wondering why I deleted the original? I chose to kill my first truly successful chapter fic because it was crap. Yes, that's right, you heard me: it was crap. The writing (particularly in the beginning) was absolutely horrific, the characterization was terrible, the organization was nonexistent, and the plot was even more nonexistent than the organization. This is my most disorganized story even now, so even though I have resurrected it, don't really expect updates until I outline an actual plot. Sorry everyone, but for the sake of the art of writing and my self-respect, I refuse to post a story that I cannot be decently proud of._

_(**cough**) Got unusually serious there. Anyway, here comes chapter one, the former prologue, extended so muchly that I thought it would make a nice first chapter._

_Note: Those of you who are sensitive about molestation (that which is far more serious and hurtful than just Miroku's lechery), I suggest you do not read this, as harassment will come into play later in the story._

_Japanese Word of the Day: _hajimari- _beginning._

_Disclaimer: I own none of the Inuyasha characters, but for the remainder of this story, I shall be borrowing them and freely tossing them into emotionally scarring situations. Sorry, Takahashi-sama!_

_Another note: I re-posted this because of a few small errors that Ijust couldn't let lie. Nothing too major, 'cept I changed their ages and grades. No biggie._

-- -- --

"Where are they?"

Royakan stepped back and eyed his companions unsurely. They all seemed as uncomfortable as he did. It was strange how they could face the most venomous of prejudice every day, yet cower in the face of this little half-demon boy, his minuscule claws glinting as he clutched a bright yellow ball to his chest. His eyes were a less strident shade of yellow, more amber, and his hair was a glaring, silky silver color. He stood on the porch of Kaguya's house as confidently as if it were his own.

The boy's small white dog ears swung forward aggressively as he repeated, "Where are they?"

God, how he hated this job. "Um, kid, I…your…"

He slammed the ball down onto the ground, glaring impatiently at the crowd of casually dressed men as the ball rebounded to an inhuman height and continued bouncing away. "Where's my father and mother and brother? What did you do with Mama?" he snarled.

"I…kid, your Mama—"

"Her name is Mrs. Tsuki to you!" the boy interrupted with an arrogance rare to six-year-olds.

"Yeah, well…" Royakan looked helplessly back at his companions, begging them to help. They simply stared back at him and the few sheets of paper he held in one of his furred hands. _Some friends _you_ are_, he thought resentfully, turning back to the child. After meeting that hostile amber gaze, he quickly dropped his eyes back down the papers.

_Weird name…_ he silently commented, before sighing seriously. He slowly approached the boy, who watched him warily but did not move. The boy flinched slightly when Royakan put a hand his shoulder, but it was to be expected, the man thought sadly. What else could one expect from these poor half-breed kids? His own niece was a half-demon, and he thought she was the sweetest little girl who ever set foot on the planet, but not all people were as blessed in open-mindedness as his own family. It was only natural that a half-demon child should be afraid of the world around him.

Unfortunately, this made Royakan's job infinitely more difficult. He looked down at the papers again, more as an excuse to not meet those eyes that were entirely too knowing for a kindergartener than as a reminder of the boy's odd name. "Inuyasha," he began softly, "Your family…"

Royakan's hesitation only worsened Inuyasha's impatience. "Where are they? When are they coming home? Why did Miss Kagamino come and take me away from my house?"

"Your…your family isn't coming home," Royakan whispered.

The amber eyes blinked. "Why not?" Inuyasha demanded imperiously, anxiety flashing across his face. "Why aren't they coming home? Where did they go?" The fear grew until he finally looked down, his ears now drooping. "…don't they love me anymore?"

Royakan suddenly thought of his niece the last time he had seen her, crying as she watched him return to his car, asking tearfully if Uncle Royakan would come back. He had smiled and promised to be back soon, and he wished that he could do the same for Inuyasha. But…

"Of course they love you, kid. But…they _can't_ come back anymore. Your parents, your brother…they're dead."

The few times he had been forced to inform children this young of their parents' deaths, they hadn't understood. The true extent of "forever", the true meaning of "dead", held little meaning in their young minds. They had cried to know that they would never see their parents again, but it took a long time for the fact that they were well and truly _gone_ from this world to sink in, sometimes up to a year.

But the crushing expression of loss on this already unusual boy's face further set him apart from the other children Royakan had had to deal with. This child, he decided, was far too mature for his age, to be able to understand the reality of death.

"No…" he whimpered, every trace of imperiousness, of superiority, of suspicion, gone. His tiny clawed hands hung trembling at his sides. "Mama…Papa…Sesshoumaru…no, they're not dead! They're not dead! You're lying! _They're not dead!_" He flung Royakan's hand off of his shoulder and bolted off the porch, sprinting in the direction of his home. "_Mama, Papa, Sesshoumaru, come back! Don't forget me! Come back!_"

Royakan, a big demon, was caught off guard and stumbled backward, but managed to attempt a hasty grab at Inuyasha's red T-shirt. But even at age five, Inuyasha could already sprint as fast as any human adult, not to mention the fact that smaller demons tended to be faster than bigger ones, and evaded his grasp. "Catch him!" the demon shouted quickly.

His coworkers didn't need the order. The moment Inuyasha had moved, they had all swarmed forward, forming a wall between the child and the street. One man quickly grabbed Inuyasha around the waist and lifted him up. Sighing in relief, Royakan stood and walked over to the boy, who was shaking and crying and half-heartedly struggling against the man's arms. "Inuyasha, it's okay," he murmured, gently rubbing his hand up and down his narrow back. "We'll take care of you…it's okay."

Apparently, that had been the wrong thing to say. Inuyasha suddenly began twisting and clawing at his captor full force, screaming, "_NO! MAMA AND PAPA AND SESSHOUMARU ARE GOING TO TAKE CARE OF ME! NOT YOU!_"

The man holding him shouted and all but dropped Inuyasha to the ground, clutching the five shallow scratches in his shoulder. "_Shit_, those claws are sharp!"

Royakan snared one of Inuyasha's thin wrists and was almost jerked off his feet as Inuyasha, already as strong as a grown man and now fueled by desperation, bolted forward. "A little help here!" he shouted. In response, the others quickly grabbed on as well, one man catching the other wrist, others pulling at Inuyasha's shoulders, his waist, even his clothes. Even so caught, Inuyasha fought like one possessed, snarling and screaming for his family.

The sight they made had of course drawn a crowd, and many people stood on the sidewalk, watching the knot of humans and demons attempting to restrain one frantic little half-demon boy. Royakan, sparing a quick glance up at their audience, snorted and looked down. Had Inuyasha been fully human or even fully demon, at least some of those people would have rushed to intervene, assuming from Inuyasha's cries that he was being attacked. But no, the child's "filthy blood" obviously warranted no pity, no anxiety from these people, except concern that such a vicious little half-breed would hurt the humans amongst the struggling mob.

"Hold him still!" commanded a female voice from the house. Royakan turned and saw Kaguya Kagamino, one of the social workers who often took in orphans until they could be placed either with another family or in an orphanage. Her long, blue-black hair was clipped back on each side of her head with enormous, gill-like barrettes that would have looked ridiculous on anyone else rather than intimidating and regal as they looked on her. She had run out the house barefoot, carrying a syringe in her hand.

Now, she sprinted around the heaving knot of people and fought her way to Inuyasha. She grabbed one of his wrists and, being a demon herself, was able to hold it still long enough to prick him and quickly inject a small amount of clear liquid. Then, she stepped back.

Royakan, at first concerned for Inuyasha's safety, finally understood when the boy's eyelids began involuntarily drooping, his struggles weakening until almost all of the men had released him, leaving Royakan and a few others to restrain the rapidly tiring boy. Finally, the amber eyes closed, and the child slumped backward into Royakan's arms. Giving Kaguya a grateful glance, he informed her, "All of the Tsuki property has been granted to Inuyasha, since his parents both left all of their property to each other and the kids. But until he's old enough to take care of the company himself, Mr. Tsuki's assistant, Myoga, will be playing boss."

She nodded and reached out to ruffle Inuyasha's hair. "Thanks for letting me know. The poor kid," she murmured. "One hell of a troublemaker, but what more can we expect after the treatment he grew up with? His parents loved him madly, but from what I gather, his brother, not to mention the rest of the world, didn't treat him so kindly." Kaguya looked up a long way to meet Royakan's eyes. "Who's he going to?"

He cleared his throat and looked away. "Um…well, he's not going to anyone."

"What?" Kaguya glared sharply at him. "You mean you couldn't find _anyone_?"

Royakan self-consciously rubbed at the back of neck with one hand, easily supporting Inuyasha's weight with the other. "Well, Inuyasha's parents and grandparents were all only children, so his closest relative is something along the lines of a third cousin twice removed, and _she_ first of all never met the kid, and she has three boys of her own. Friends of the family all declined, and since they were all rich…" He grimaced. "The administrative office couldn't help but accept the 'donations' they were offered."

The woman snorted in disgust. "So that means…"

"Yeah. He has nowhere to go."

-- -- --

"Mushin Papa?" the little boy said uncertainly. "Mushin Papa, did you go out for grown-up busy-ness again?" He steadied his foster father's arm as the man stumbled his way toward the kitchen.

"Eh…eh? M'roku? Oh, yeah, yeah, grown'p businesh. Real sheeryus shtuff…" Mushin scratched lazily at his belly, which bulged out of his unbuttoned shirt. "Real sheeryus…Mushin Papa went t'talk ter som'un…talk abou' you…" He reached down and ruffled the long, messy bangs that had fallen out of Miroku's small ponytail. "Don' you w'ry bout a thing, m'boy…Mushin Papa'll take good keer o' you."

"Yes, Mushin Papa," Miroku agreed wearily, steering the man toward a chair. "Mushin Papa, you hafta go to a conference with Ms. Tentori tomorrow. Don't go to grown-up business tomorrow, okay?"

"A conf'rensh?" Mushin repeated. "Why? 'M I in trouble?"

The little five-year-old boy dragged a chair over to the counter. He clambered on top and opened one cupboard, removing a brown coffee mug. As he crawled over to the sink, he answered, "No, Mushin Papa, it's a parent-teacher conference. Kindergarteners get those." Miroku smiled proudly as he filled the glass with tap water. Setting the glass on the counter, he climbed back down then took the glass over to Mushin. "Here."

"Ah, M'roku's a big boy, now, ishinee?" the man slurred, shakily accepting the water and raising it to his mouth.

"That's right," Miroku said self-importantly, taking what he clearly thought was an commanding pose. "I'll be a grown-up soon, too, then I can go with you to grown-up business, right, Mushin Papa?"

A deep frown creased Mushin's flushed face and gave his mustache an almost comical arc. "M'roku," he said as seriously as a drunk man could, "ah hope you never go do growned-up bus'nesh…bad thingssshhhappen when you do growned-up businesh…"

His words were interrupted by a knock on the front door. Miroku quickly ran to answer it, telling Mushin, "It's okay, Mushin Papa. If you get up, you might fall again."

"Okay…keerful, M'roku…bad thingsh can happen when strang'rs knock on yer door…" He took a long sip from his mug, staring after Miroku's back. "You otta 'member," he murmured.

The little boy paused in the middle of the living room, a small frown on his face. The fingers on his right hand wiggled and bent restlessly, rattling the blue beads that held an old-fashioned purple gauntlet around his wrist and arm. Yes, he remembered very well…

But the knocking sounded again, and he pranced over to the door. After few seconds of jumping and clawing at the just-out-of-reach lock mechanism, Miroku managed to unlock the door and heave it open. Remembering Mushin's warning, he cautiously poked his head out. "C'n I help you?" He craned his neck to meet the eyes of the solemn-looking man standing on the doorstep.

Some odd flicker passed across the man's eyes before he knelt down in front of Miroku. "Hello, my name is Mr. Seikai. Is this the home of Mushin Jin?"

"Yes, sir. Who are you, sir?" Miroku said earnestly, sounding amusingly like a protective parent.

The man laughed reluctantly, his thin beard bobbing up and down in the boy's eyes. "I was talking with Mushin earlier today, and we've decided that you, assuming that you are Mr. Miroku Katen, are going to come with me."

Miroku chose to ignore that last part and instead asked, "Oh, was you doing grown-up business w' him?"

Mr. Sekai blinked before his face saddened. "No, Miroku, I was _watching_ him do grown-up business, and it's because of the grown-up business that you're going to come with me today."

"Why? Is grown-up business bad? Mushin Papa likes it. He comes home with his face all red like a strawberry and laughs and hiccups a lot. And he talks funny." Miroku giggled before suddenly sobering up. "But other grown-ups don't like it when he does grown-up business. They look at him funny, and they whisper, and they look at _me_ funny. Mushin Papa met Ms. Tentori at Open House with his face all red, and she looked at me really weird. She asks me if I'm hungry a lot, and she checks to see if I'm hurt when I come to school."

"And are you hungry? Are you hurt?" Mr. Sekai murmured.

"Nope! I just had my dinner! Mushin Papa cooked it for me before he left! I can use the mike-er-wave all by myself!" Miroku proudly puffed out his chest. "And look at this!" He bravely lifted his left foot, displaying the bluish bruise spreading over the back of his foot and two of his toes. Mr. Seikai sucked in his breath, but Miroku, pouting and shakily balancing in as dignified a manner as possible, continued, "Dumb dictionary fell on it. But I didn't cry! It hurt, but I didn't cry!" He finally put his foot down, looking up at his visitor as if he were waiting for praise.

Mr. Seikai, taking the cue, nodded and said with just the right amount of awe, "My, you _are_ brave, aren't you?" A thought seemed to occur to him. "Say, Miroku, what grade are you in?"

"Kindergarten!" he chirped in answer, wiggling his non-injured toes. "But I'm better than lots of my friends at reading and stuff! I can read third grade books, and I'm learning mult-fication!" He hung his head. "But I'm still not very good at it. I can't even say it right."

The man's jaw had stopped just short of dropping. "That's already very good, Miroku! Most first-graders don't even know what multiplication _is_! Are you learning by yourself?"

"No, silly! Mushin Papa is teaching me! He says I'm a very talented-ed student."

"Yes, I can see that," Mr. Seikai whispered. His face was troubled now, as if he were having some sort of internal debate. But finally, his face calmed once more, and he said gently, "Now, then, honorable Mr. Katen, may I have the honor of entering your home and speaking with your Mushin Papa?"

"Um…" Miroku suddenly shut the door and shouted at the startled Mr. Seikai. "Hang on! I hafta ask Mushin Papa if it's okay, first!"

"Wait, but…!"

Too late. Miroku jogged into the kitchen and announced importantly, "Mushin Papa, someone called Mr. Seikai is here! He says I'm going somewhere with him, and he wants ta talk to you!"

Mushin sat where he was for a moment, the mug halfway down from his mouth to the table. He gave Miroku a glance filled with so many emotions that the boy quickly pranced back into the living room. From there, he called out, "Should I let him in, Mushin Papa?"

He heard the sound of his foster father slowly pushing himself to his feet and shuffling after Miroku. "No, M'roku, s'okay, I'll get it. Lish-en, I wan' you t'go upshtairs and start packin' yer toys an' booksh and stuff, 'kay? Put 'em in that big ol' backpack I bought ya yesherday. 'Kay?"

Miroku, curious but still obedient, ran up the stairs to his room. It wasn't a young boy's paradise, with race cars on the walls or a huge chest full of toys. There were no superhero bed sheets or train play sets. However, the small wooden bed was still comfortable, the beige covers were warm, the collection of old model cars amusing, and the handmade shelf of discount children's books absorbing. The boy had no reason to want to leave, but he still began scooping toys and books alike into a huge blue backpack with childish enthusiasm.

Through his door, the voices of Mushin and Mr. Seikai were somewhat audible, and Miroku heard snatches of Mr. Seikai's accusatory but regretful words: "drunk as a bat", "using the microwave", "home alone", "warned you about alcoholism"… Mushin's words came in a low mumble, to which Mr. Seikai replied, "Well…mumble good heart mumble mumble mumble old habits mumble mumble smart kid mumble real friendly mumble will be taken good care of mumble visit mumble…"

More talking that Miroku couldn't understand, then footsteps began to ascend the staircase. He twisted around and grinned at Mr. Seikai, who stood just outside his bedroom door. "Can I come in?"

Miroku nodded and continued trying to cram one of his newest books into his backpack. "Mr. Seikai, am I goin' with you somewhere?"

"Um…" He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Yes…yes, you are. You see, Miroku, you're moving again."

A chill ran through the little boy and he suddenly dropped the backpack, spilling half of its badly packed contents. He stared openmouthed at the man before whispering, "Did…did the bad man get Mushin Papa, too? He got Grandpa, and then Dad made me move here, and the bad man got Dad…is he gonna get Mushin Papa?"

"No, don't worry, Miroku, the bad man isn't getting Mushin Papa. It's just hard for him to take good care of you because," Mr. Seikai's calming eyes hardened, "he's so busy with 'grown-up business'."

"Oh…" Miroku calmed slightly and slowly knelt to start picking up the toys that had fallen. "Mr. Seikai…where am I moving to? The bad man won't get _me_, right?"

"That's right, Miroku. We're taking you to a place where you'll be so well taken care of, the bad man will never even get close to you."

-- -- --

"Kuranosuke and Sango sittin' in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" The kids in the four back seats of the bus chanted loudly as the girl and boy in the two seats in front of them pretended to ignore them. "First comes love! Then comes marriage! Then comes baby in a baby carriage!"

"Sango, you like strawberry, right? You want this candy?" The boy, his hair drawn back into a ponytail with neatly curled bangs left to fall in his forehead, offered his friend a Starburst. "I saved some of my lunch."

"Pink!" Sango squealed, taking the rose-colored square and popping it in her mouth. "Thanks, Kuranosuke! It's my favorite color!" The last sentence, Sango didn't seem to realize, was entirely unnecessary, as her hair tie, sneakers, and backpack were all pink, all the exact same shade as her strange magenta eyes. Many people had mistaken the little girl for a demon because of those eyes, but she was the furthest thing from one.

Sango Chikara, the five-year-old bookworm who sat swinging her feet and chomping happily on a pink fruit chew, was a demon slayer.

For centuries, her family and others like it had enjoyed one of the highest positions in society: keepers of the peace, guardians against the barbarian demons. Then, about ninety years ago, it had been declared illegal to kill a demon for any reason other than self-defense, as steadily civilizing society began to open its arms more widely toward the outcast species that had been both predator and prey of the human race. Yet the demon slayers remained. Some had stayed to keep the more traditional-minded demons in their place. And some degenerated into behavior no better than that which had justified their own hunting down of demons.

Gangs sprang up. The proud demon slayer line became corrupted with intimidation and the dishonesties of common street hooligans. It was slayer tradition that very child would be carefully "bred" and brought up to carry out the honorable tradition of guarding the human race against demons. Demon slayer blood was precious, and yet for the first time, a significant number of parents began to disown the carefully reared heirs to the demon slayer race. Their numbers began to dwindle, and the final blow fell upon their proud race with the Demon Rights Movement of the 1970s. Demon slayers came to be known as the worst of those biased against demons, and fell unbelievably out of favor with the general public.

But their pride remained, as was evidenced in little Sango. A kindergartener who devoured books like sweets, she possessed pure demon slayer blood and already had the training to knock out a full-grown man. She was easily the most athletic in the class; she had trained with traditional weapons like swords and weighted chains since she was three. She eagerly awaited the day she could begin to use her favorite: her mother's Hiraikotsu, a giant boomerang that had been passed down the female family line for almost a century.

Yes, Sango was intimidating. Yet sitting on that bus with Kuranosuke while her classmates chanted at her back, Sango felt little more than the childish thrill of friendship, the passing exhilaration of flavored sugar in her mouth. Her odd-colored eyes held no malice when she looked upon demons, and her physical training had done nothing to harden her naturally sweet personality. And so when she got off the bus that day, chanting "Sticks and stones" at the persistent children in the very back, the little girl's only thoughts concerned whether or not she should tell her father of what had happened with Kuranosuke today.

_He might call Kuranosuke my _boyfriend_…_again Sango ran over that thought with distaste, sticking her thumb on her nose and wiggling her fingers at the classmates who were pulling their own faces at her as the bus drove away. _Kuranosuke is my best friend, but boys still have cooties!_

Sighing, she adjusted her backpack, pink dice key chains rattling against the pink denim, trotted up the driveway, and hopped energetically onto the porch. Besides the fact that her balance was perfect and her landing stance momentarily wary and poised for action, she alighted on the oak boards as any female kindergartener might, giggling and attempting a ballet-esque twirl at the end. She then gave the empty street a skirt-less curtsy and giggled again.

Sango's mouth suddenly pursed. What would Father say if he saw her? That she was acting like a _real girl_ (ick!) again? With that thought, she straightened, her eyes alert, her chin up, shoulders back, muscles slightly tensed, taking the stance of the ever-watchful demon slayer.

Marching purposefully to the front door, Sango reached to her neck and pulled a small necklace out from the inside of her shirt, from which hung a silver house key. Father never came home before six, and only after he picked Kohaku up from the nursery. So ever since Mama had died last summer, Sango usually stayed at home alone in the afternoons.

She stuck the key in the keyhole and turned it and the doorknob all at once. As she opened the door, key still firmly inserted in the doorknob, Sango was as always forced to trot as close to the door as possible so her necklace wouldn't get jerked off of her neck. Once the door was open all the way, Sango had had to dance after the doorknob and turn so she was facing outside. She removed the key and closed the door, then dropped the cold piece of metal back down her shirt. Then, she turned around.

_Eh? Why are Father's shoes still here? And why did he leave Kohaku's bag here?_ Sango eyed the big white and navy blue sneakers and the green and blue-striped baby bag. Then, she shrugged and forgot it. The hallway was, as always, dark, and she quickly flipped on the lights. Once the shadows had been dispersed, she happily shuffled her socks along the slippery hardwood flooring and headed toward the kitchen. _What'm I gonna eat for a snack today?_

Now, even though Sango's father worked almost all day then came home to two young children, he somehow managed to keep the house quite neat. Thus, Sango was surprised when she noticed a broken plate lying in the entrance to the kitchen. _Father would never leave something lying about like this!_

The little girl continued curiously into the kitchen. "What the heck?" she exclaimed, glancing around the messy room. Since when had Father ever left for work with the kitchen looking like _this_? A bowl of cereal was upturned on the simple table, and two small puddles of spilled milk had formed on the table and the floor. The spoon had been kicked almost under the refrigerator, and the drying rack for the dishes had fallen to the floor. Sango stepped gingerly around the broken shards of porcelain and the few intact plastic plates and peered into the sink. There was her plate, complete with crumbs from her morning Pop-Tart! What on earth would have made her father leave things in such disarray?

Sango continued around the table, and stared at the floor in surprise. There in the middle of the white tile was a huge stain of blackish-reddish brown. Even more strangely, there were marks that made it look like something had been dragged from the middle of that stain into the hallway that led to the bedrooms. The young girl knelt and touched the stain. It was dry, and slightly crumbly, and for some reason, it gave her goose bumps.

Nevertheless, she stood and followed the trail of red-brown spots, pacing through the hallway and toward her father's room. As usual, his door was closed, and for a moment she hesitated, remembering her father's rule that she stay out of his room unless she badly needed to talk to him. But curiosity won against caution, and she reached up and turned the doorknob.

"…Father?" Why was he home so early? He lay sprawled haphazardly over the bed, both legs dangling onto the floor, his arms lolling in very uncomfortable-looking positions. Why would Father ever sleep like that?

"Father?" she asked again, stepping toward him, ignoring the rust-colored discoloring that covered the blankets. "Father, why are you home early? Where's Kohaku?"

Another step closer, and she had her answer. Her one-year-old brother was lying beside him, also covered in that auburn layer of…something. "Why are both of you home?"

Icy fingers danced up and down her spine, and she lunged forward, desperately grabbing at her father's arm for the protection she suddenly needed against this new, lost feeling. "Father! Father, come on, wake up, I want you to answer me! Father!"

Had his arms ever felt so cold, or so stiff? "Father, why are you ignoring me?" She shook his arm as hard as she could, ignoring the stain, like the one in the kitchen except redder and slightly wet, which smeared over her fingers. "Father? _Father! Father, answer me! Father, wake up, please wake up!_"

-- -- --

"Come on, Kagome, we're going to be late for the Open Arms banquet!" A brown-haired man rushed past the girl's bedroom door, fiddling haphazardly with his cufflinks and glancing around in agitation. "Honey, where's my tie?"

"First off, Kureno, it's the Children's Breadbasket we're going to tonight, not Open Arms. And your tie is on the couch, exactly where you left it." The woman, with raven-black hair like the girl's, paused to smooth a lock of hair behind her ear. Then, she smiled at the girl. "So, Kagome, how do you like your new dress?"

Kagome Higurashi gave her a gap-toothed smile and twirled around. "It's my favorite color!"

The woman laughed. "That's right! Suddenly, it looks like I have a little yellow butterfly for a daughter!"

The little girl halted and primly smoothed down her lacy saffron-colored dress. "No, mommy, I'm a daff…daffy…"

"Daffodil?" her mother suggested with a grin.

"Yeah, yeah, a daffodil! I'm a good little flower and I'm gonna stay in one place all night!"

"That's my little daffodil," Mrs. Higurashi said approvingly. She stood, tugging at the hem of her baby-blue silk blouse. "You're such a good girl, Kagome. I'm glad you're mine."

Giggling, Kagome hugged her mother's sapphire skirt-covered legs. When she opened her mouth to reply, her father suddenly burst into her room, breathlessly fumbling with his tangled red tie. "Come on, come on, Hana, Kagome, we're gonna be late!"

Hana Higurashi sighed patiently and walked over to her husband. As her hands took over the task of properly tying his tie, she gently responded, "Kureno, honey, relax. We still have a few minutes before we need to get out on the road."

"Okay…" The man took a deep, calming breath. "You're right, Hana. It's just…you know how I am about being late."

"Daddy, Daddy, look at my dress!" Kagome interrupted, unable to hold back any longer. She flounced up to him and stood stock still, her whole body trembling with suppressed energy.

He looked down at her in slight surprise, then grinned. "You look beautiful, Kagome!" Just as his wife finished with his tie, Kureno swooped down on his daughter and scooped her into his arms. Standing, he laughed as Kagome giggled happily. "Just think how jealous of me all those other men will be! There they'll be, all single and thinking they're so great, and then _I'll_ walk in with the two most beautiful girls in the world, one on each arm!" He slung one arm around his wife's shoulder. "Am I not the luckiest man in the world?"

Hana smiled and kissed his cheek. "Indeed you are. Come on, honey, let's get going. Kagome, do you have something to keep you busy while we're there?"

"Yup!" Kagome wriggled to signal to her father that she wanted to get down and, once he'd set her down with another hearty laugh, raced to her Playskool desk and picked up a coloring book. "See? It's my lance-ape one!"

"Landscape," her father corrected with a smile. "I'm surprised, Kagome. Not a lot of girls your age are interested in landscapes."

She selected a 64-pack of well-used crayons and replied, "But they're pretty! I'm doing my favorite one today!" The little girl suddenly found it necessary to flip her coloring book open and proudly display a boldly outlined sunset over a mountain lake. "I'm gonna make it look like the one we saw at the mountain hotel place with the big strawberry cheesecake."

"'The mountain hotel place'? Oh, you mean the Birthday Child convention, right honey?" Hana looked over at her husband. "Right? The one where they send kids care packages on their birthdays?"

Kureno nodded, staring thoughtfully down at his daughter who was so avidly studying her next masterpiece. "Yeah…" he agreed vaguely. Then, he met his wife's gaze. "It's amazing, isn't it? I have never met anyone as captivated by art as Kagome is, and she's only five. She'll be a force to be reckoned with when she's older."

Both smiled proudly down at Kagome. Hana suddenly asked, "Kagome? How would you like it if we got you a paint set?"

"A paint set?" Huge gray eyes tore away from the coloring book to Kagome's parents.

"Yes, a bunch of beautifully colored paints, and lots of paper, too. That way, you can make your own pictures."

Something very fizzy exploded in Kagome, and she shrieked and hugged her mother's legs. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, can I get one? I _promise_ I'll be a good girl, if I just get a paint set! Please?" She hit first her mother and then her father with her most carefully cultivated angelic look, and was rewarded with Hana's approving laugh.

Kureno joined in their amusement, herding both females out of Kagome's bedroom as he added, "First thing tomorrow, we go shopping for Kagome's new paint set! But, the first thing we need to do _now_ is get on that car, or we'll be late, and I mean it this time!"

A few hurried but content minutes later, the Higurashi Lexus was backing out of the garage with all three members happily strapped in. Hana had thrown on an elegant, Chinese-style jacket of black silk over her outfit to ward off the springtime chill. Occasionally glancing down at the driving directions Childrens' Breadbasket had provided to its invitees, Kureno maneuvered through the streets beginning to swell with rush hour traffic. A light _thump, thump, thump_ resonated from the backseat as Kagome absentmindedly kicked her little white dress shoes against the seat and examined her coloring book.

Kureno suddenly stepped firmly on the brake, and the car slid to a stop just as the light turned red. "Kagome," Hana asked, twisting around to look at her daughter, "are you all right back there? You're awfully quiet."

"Yeah, I'm just picking what colors I'm gonna use. The clouds were pink and yellow, right?"

"I think the ones further away from the sun were a little purple, too, Kagome," her father added thoughtfully, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and watching the cross-traffic. "Geez, this must be the longest red light in the city."

"Well, maybe if you stop watching the lights like a hawk watches a mouse's burrow, it'll finally change," his wife advised with a laugh. "You know the old saying: the watched pot never boils."

He turned and gave his wife a smile. "Now, don't you go spouting clichés on me, Hana."

_Beep beep!_

"Ah, shoot," Kureno grumbled, sparing the now-green traffic light one quick glance and stepping on the accelerator once more.

Kagome had looked up when the car behind them had honked, and now she watched as they advanced into the intersection, Mommy getting ready to say something witty to Daddy—

Wait, the light was green…

So why was a car zooming down the cross-street…

"_Watch out!_" Mommy suddenly screamed, reaching out for the steering wheel…

What was that word Daddy just said? She'd never heard it before…it sounded like "o-shit", whatever that meant…

The steering wheel was turned all the way, and the car was turning, but it was still going further into the intersection…the tires were squealing…Daddy was saying more new words and said something like, "We're skidding!"

And the car was still coming, and Kagome could see the lady driving it…she had her hair up in a ponytail or something…why wasn't she slowing down…why was everything moving so slowly…

_I want my paint set to have a color just like that car, all dark green and sparkly,_ she thought.

Suddenly, everything happened all at once. Kagome's eyes widened as her mother screamed and the car kept coming and her father jerked at the wheel and the car got closer and suddenly she was screaming and then…

And then there was nothing.

_(end)_

-- -- --

_And so ends chapter uno of _How Many Silver Linings in a Thunderstorm_, Silver Linings for short. Wow, this is just barely fourteen pages long…I haven't written so much in a long time._

_Anyway, readers both old and new, let me know what you think about this chapter. And please, no rants about what an evil bitch I am. I am already perfectly aware of my literary sadism; I'd much rather you guys spend your typing time either complimenting or criticizing without angry ranting. This chapter is sad and evil and all…but there will definitely be lighthearted moments._

_By the way, if you guys are confused about stuff, feel free to ask me, but some things are meant to be kept under wraps until the plot calls for their unveiling. "The bad man" will remain unidentified. Royakan, Kaguya, and Mr. Seikai (anyone recognize him as the monk Kikyo kills in manga volume eight?) will likely play either minimal or nonexistent roles for the remainder of the story. I just picked random people to stand in as social workers, so…yeah. If anyone has questions about the whole demon slayer history thing, I'll be happy to explain it in the opening author's note of chapter two, but make sure you ask for an explanation, or else I won't bother! Um…they're all in some random country that I will name later, where Japanese names and American customs are the norm._

_If I've missed anything, let me know, and I'll either reply to your review or answer in the next chapter. Until then!_


	2. Bygone Dreams

**How Many Silver Linings in a Thunderstorm?**

**Chapter Two: Bygone Dreams**

_Wow, I've finally posted chapter two. Took me long enough, eh? Anyways, I just want to make a few comments about the story before we move on:_

_1) From now on, I'm using ningen (human), hanyou (half-demon), and youkai (demon), because they sound cool. And because so much stuff is already in Japanese anyways._

_2) This and the next seven chapters or so will all begin with part of the legend of the Shikon Jewel, although the number may drop if I choose to add it into the storyline. Please do read it! The story of the jewel does in fact matter to the plot!_

_3) This particular chapter is written in three different styles. The first is a legend-relating voice, a bit more formal than I usually use. Next is a very childish, rather unpolished style. If you think it seems very immature, please keep in mind that IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE THAT WAY. Since I'm writing from a child's perspective, it seems appropriate to write as a child would think. The last style is my usual style, since I'm writing from a teenager's POV. Just thought I'd alert you if the flow seemed to stop and start a lot._

_Japanese Word of the Day: _yume_- dream._

_Disclaimer: Regarding this chapter and all remaining chapters in this story: I DON'T OWN INUYASHA!_

-- -- --

_Long ago, in a time almost lost to memory, our land was torn by war. Ningen fought youkai, youkai fought ningen, and both fought amongst themselves. The rice—if any farmers who had not been killed or conscripted were left to farm it—took nourishment from water running with blood. Children watched their parents, their siblings, and their friends as they were killed, sometimes slowly, sometimes as quick as lightning. Be the killer ningen or youkai, it soon ceased to matter. Life became nothing but a short reprieve before death._

_And then, from a land far to the east, there came salvation. A miko named Midoriko with the power of a goddess came to our home, armed with compassion in one hand and ruthlessness in the other. People first thought her mad when she tried to negotiate with ningen and youkai alike. But their skepticism changed to respect when they witnessed her treatment of those who refused to live peacefully. Calling down the gods' fire, she razed their bodies and ruptured their very souls. Their identities did not matter to her; all who called for war were struck down._

_Yet while many respected and worshipped Midoriko for her victories, there were also many who hated her for her sense of justice and merciless treatment of the bloodthirsty. And so, thousands of youkai and ningen fused in a bloodbath of devoured flesh and corrupted souls, until a great youkai, the likes of which had never before and, gods willing, would never again walk the earth, was born. This youkai, its body, mind, and soul crying for the miko's death, confronted Midoriko, and the greatest battle in all of time ensued._

_For seven days, lightning struck the battlefield like rain, and fire raged around its borders, sending plumes of smoke so high they blocked the sun for many weeks after. The ground shook violently and the oceans roared and frothed with angry spray. Those strong-willed enough to look upon the battle saw that miko and youkai were well matched during those seven days of destruction._

_But on the dawn of the eighth day, Midoriko began to tire. Seeing this advantage, the youkai reached out and grabbed hold of the exhausted woman, piercing her chest with one of its massive claws. The miko was dying, but she had one last spell to cast. For the last time, she called lightning down from the heavens, called it and ordered it to strike her. As the lightning blazed through her, she found the strength to entwine the demon's own soul with hers as her magic began ripping her apart._

_The demon shrieked in fury and tried to drop its captive, but was paralyzed by Midoriko's power. Together, they perished encased in heavenly fire, and their bodies crumbled to ash._

_For many more weeks, the fires burned, the lightning struck, the earth trembled, and the seas shuddered from the aftershocks of the battle. Slowly, the fires burned out, and a few ningen ventured out to the still battlefield. All that remained of the two mighty warriors was a single jewel they called Ka-Tama, meaning 'beautiful jewel'._

_Centuries later, this mysterious jewel would come to be known as the Shikon no Tama._

-- -- --

Kagome knew she looked like a baby, but she couldn't stop herself; it was nighttime and she felt all alone and really, really tired. She stuck her thumb in her mouth, squishing Fluffy between her arm and her chest, and looked up at the old lady with wide eyes.

"You're Miss Kagome Higurashi, right?" the lady asked with a smile. She looked nice.

She pulled her thumb out of her mouth—"Yes"—and stuck it back in.

From behind her, the lady who had taken her from the hospital said cheerfully, "This is Miss Kaede, Kagome. She's going to help take care of you while you're staying at Shikon Orphanage."

Kagome felt her eyes fill with tears. "But why can't Mommy and Daddy take care of me?" she asked the lady. "Miss Chieko, why didn't my Mommy and Daddy visit me in the hospital? Where are they?" _Do they still love me?_

Miss Chieko and Miss Kaede looked at each other before Miss Kaede said, "It'll take some time to explain, Kagome. For now, why don't you come inside and meet your new friends? There are a few kids here your age who you might like to play with."

She didn't want to look like a baby, so she pulled her thumb out of her mouth and wiped it on Fluffy's fuzzy white ear. For a second, she thought she wanted to put Fluffy down, but she liked him. So when Miss Kaede reached down to take Fluffy, Kagome shook her head and hugged the stuffed dog. "Fluffy wants to stay with me." So the lady nodded and took Kagome's suitcases and led her through a lot of hallways and doors before she stopped in a playroom. There were three kids there. One was a girl with big, red eyes. There were two boys, one who was sleeping on the couch and one who was playing blocks with the girl.

"Here we are, Kagome!" Kaede said happily. "You two, would you like to come here for a moment?" The two who were awake jumped up and ran to Kagome. Kaede told them, "This is Kagome Higurashi. She's also going to stay here for a while. Would you like to introduce yourselves?"

"I'm Miroku Katen," the boy said. He had funny purple eyes and a little black ponytail, and when he held out his hand for her to shake, Kagome saw that he was wearing something like a big purple glove on that arm. She stared at it before Miroku said, "You're supposed to take my hand and shake it."

"I know that!" Kagome was angry. She wasn't stupid!

She took his hand and shook, and Miroku asked her, "Hey, Kagome, want to be my girlfriend?"

"Ew, no!" She jumped away from him and glared at him, clutching Fluffy in front of her. "I don't want a _boyfriend!_"

The other girl stuck out her tongue at the boy and said, "I toldja! Boys've got cooties!" She turned to Kagome and smiled. "I'm Sango Chikara! Finally, there's another girl here! Miroku here is boring because he keeps complaining if you don't say you'll be his girlfriend, and that kid over there just won't wake up." She waved a hand at the boy sleeping on the couch. "I even tried shouting in his ear."

"Now, now, Sango, that's not nice. Leave him alone until he wakes up, okay?" Kaede gently pushed Kagome toward the pile of blocks that Sango and Miroku had been playing with. "Until then, you three play together, okay? I'll come back every once in a while to check on you. I don't want you leaving this room until I tell you to, all right?"

"All right, Miss Kaede," the three of them answered, sitting down by the blocks. Kagome put Fluffy down to the side and picked up a yellow block. She put it back down in the middle of the floor, and Sango put a green one on top. Then, Miroku stacked a blue one on top of that one. Silently, they kept building up and out, until the tower was as high as Kagome's bellybutton and as wide at the bottom as her foot. Then, she sighed. "I'm bored."

"Me, too," Sango said, yawning and poking Fluffy's nose. "And I'm tired."

"Ooh, Sango's a baby, she wants to take a nap!" Miroku teased, standing up and hopping from one foot to the other.

"I do not!" she snapped. "I'm just saying that I'm tired! I bet _you're_ tired, too!"

"Yeah, but I bet that kid is even tireder than me!" Miroku argued, pointing at the sleeping boy.

Suddenly, he moved.

Kagome jumped to her feet. "Hey, I think he's waking up!" She ran over to the boy and looked down at his face. He was a youkai, _that_ was for sure; no ningen had long silver hair and ears like his. He looked sad.

"Let me see!" Sango ran up on Kagome's other side, trying to look around Kagome at the boy. "Yeah, his eyes are starting to move."

"So are his ears!" Kagome squealed. They looked just like doggie ears!

"Ooh, really?" Miroku rushed to the armrest so he was at the top of Inuyasha's head. "Haha, look at 'em!"

"Hey, do you think I can touch them?" Kagome asked, reaching out with one hand.

Miroku stopped her. "No, I don't know if he'll like it."

She glared at him and said, "Why not?"

"Because _I_ wouldn't like it if someone touched my ears, and Mushin Papa always told me to treat other people the same way I want to be treated."

With a shrug, Kagome reached out again. "But _I_ don't care if he touches my ears. And look, they're doggie ears! Dogs like it when you pet their ears. Fluffy likes it." She pointed back at the little white toy she had left by the blocks.

"Yeah, but Fluffy's a toy."

"So? Doggies like getting their ears petted."

"He's no doggie!"

"He has doggie _ears_, so his ears will like it!"

"Shut up!"

The two of them looked down in surprise. The boy was awake and glaring at them with sparkling golden eyes. "You two stupidheads woke me up!" he snarled.

Kagome gasped and jumped away. "You said _two_ bad words! It's not nice to call people…you know. So say sorry!"

He looked angry and sat up. "Make me!"

"Say it!"

"Make me!"

"Say it or…or I won't play with you!"

"Do I care?" He shrugged and looked pointedly away. "Nope."

"Fine," Kagome huffed. She grabbed Miroku and Sango's sleeves and tugged them both back to the blocks. "Let's leave the meanie alone."

The three of them sat on the floor, ignoring the mean boy and picking up more blocks to make their tower even bigger. Kagome didn't know how long they kept it up before she felt someone tap her shoulder. When she looked back, the boy was standing right behind her. He had picked up Fluffy and was letting it dangle at his side from one hand. "I wanna play blocks, too."

She frowned at him. "First, give me back my Fluffy. And second, you gotta say you're sorry for being mean."

"Fine." The boy dropped Fluffy onto Kagome's head and muttered, "S'ry."

Sango didn't look happy, but Kagome thought it was enough. The boy still looked sad; maybe he needed friends. "Okay! Sit then, and start building!"

Slowly, the boy sat down at her side and picked up a red block. He put it down on one side of the tower and began building a wall around the tower. "Keep it safe from bad guys," he said.

"Hey, yeah! And Fluffy can be a century!" Kagome happily plopped her dog down inside the wall.

Miroku looked at her. "What's a century?"

"A century is this soldier guy who stands on walls of castles and forts and stuff and watches out for bad guys. If he sees one, he tells his friends, and they all guard whatever's inside their wall," Kagome explained, the role of teacher making her feel very important.

"I think you mean 'sentry,' Kagome," said Miss Kaede's voice. The kids all turned around and saw her standing the doorway. "So you've woken up?" she asked the new boy. "Did you introduce yourself yet?"

He shook his head.

"So introduce yourself now," she said with a smile.

"I'm Inuyasha Tsuki," he said quickly. "I, uh…I guess it's nice to meet you or something like that."

Miss Kaede smiled again and walked into the room. "Very good. Inuyasha, these three are Sango, Miroku, and Kagome. They're going to be your friends while you stay here, okay?"

The three of them smiled at Inuyasha, but he looked down.

She sighed and said, "Okay kids, it's time for bed."

She led them all up one flight of stairs and pointed to two doors. "Inuyasha, Miroku, this one's your room. And Sango and Kagome, you two are going to stay in this one."

Kagome was suddenly very tired. She held Fluffy against her chest and yawned. "So it's time to sleep now?"

"Well, first we have to brush your teeth, wash your faces, and get you changed," Miss Kaede reminded her. And they did, with her help. Finally, in her favorite set of yellow ducky pajamas, Kagome toddled into her room and fell onto the bed. "Good night, Miss Kaede," she said when the woman came in to tuck them in. Sango was already asleep.

She picked up the blanket and let it drop onto Kagome's shoulders. "Sweet dreams, Kagome."

-- -- --

Kagome's eyes blinked open. She was disoriented for a moment. This wasn't the room where she had fallen asleep…Fluffy was gone…there were pictures all over the wall…

She grinned. _Just a dream._ The memory had seemed so real while she was asleep. There had been so many little things that she was sure she would have forgotten while she was awake, but in her dreams, everything was perfectly detailed. Even ten years later, the memory was completely intact.

The mattress squeaked as Kagome forced herself to sit up. The bed she had fallen asleep in while wearing her ducky pajamas was in one of the temporary rooms on the second floor, the rooms reserved for room-less new arrivals to Shikon Orphanage. _This_ room was on the third floor; it had been her room for years now. The pictures on the bulletin board—photographs, sketches, magazine clippings, several postcards—were familiar and dearly treasured. Each one held some kind of special memory for Kagome, from the amazingly accurate sketch of spring's first robin to the ratty old postcard from Los Angeles.

Her half of the room was just as cluttered as the board. Schoolbooks, papers, bags, and clothes lay in haphazard piles on the floor, at the foot of her bed, on her chair, and on her desk. An older, worn version of Fluffy reigned over the disorder from his throne atop a mountain of clothing, books, and CDs. A teenaged girl's room, not a temporary housing bedroom.

But one thing from her dream had not changed. Across the room from Kagome was another bed, drifting in sea of clutter much like hers. A blanket-covered lump was breathing deeply on the bed, a mass of long black hair tumbling out from the cocoon and across the forgotten pillow. Somewhere amidst all of those blankets was Sango, Kagome's roommate and best girlfriend.

Kagome glanced over at the clock. _7:30. It's not worth going back to sleep if I'm going to be up again at 8 to prepare for the visitors._ With a sigh, she swung her feet over the edge of the bed and gingerly placed them on the cold floorboards that weren't yet covered by junk. After a moment, she stood and stretched.

Having just turned fifteen, Kagome had a respectable figure, but was also a little shorter than average. Her tousled hair, a wavy, bluish-black curtain when brushed, fell a little past her shoulders. Her bangs, limp for lack of attention from a brush or comb, fell repeatedly into her wide gray eyes as she twisted from side to side, working the stiffness out of her back. Pinched with sleep though it was, her face was sweet and open. Her mouth was the kind that smiled easily, and everything, even up to her thin eyebrows and slightly curled eyelashes, was very expressive. The face of a girl who was easily hurt, but who forgave just as easily; who loved and trusted when most others with a shred of common sense did not.

With a sigh, Kagome let herself sit back onto her bed and idly kicked her feet. The pink sheets looked very cheerful with her yellow pajama-covered legs on top of them. _What to do, what to do…_

Her eyes fell upon a sketchbook on top of her also yellow backpack, and she smiled. What else? She hooked the book with her toes and managed to grab it before it slipped back to the ground. A mechanical pencil and a white rubber eraser were marking the spot of her latest sketch, but Kagome didn't immediately turn to that spot.

She opened the book and began slowly flipping through almost three months' worth of sketches. Sango, having fallen asleep while listening to her mp3 player—good heavens, had it only been three months since she had last drawn such atrocious feet?—a tree in the garden visible from their window, a baseball glove, a restaurant café packed with customers on a snowy evening, a roughed-out human shape aiming a bow and arrow at a practice target—ooh, the thighs were _way_ too long—some random person she had seen amongst the visitors, and so many, many more.

Kagome smiled at the visible progress she had made. Others often gushed over her drawings, but there were always so many flaws that made her itch to pick up an eraser and pencil and start editing. But she had a policy of refusing to alter a sketch once it was finished, unless she intended to polish it and make it into an actual drawing or painting. There was something very nostalgic about looking through her past works.

Finally, she reached the last one, a rough sketch of a dog sniffing eagerly around the kitchen exit. After contemplating it for a moment, she shook her head, not in the mood to go back to something old just yet. Instead, Kagome flipped to the next blank page.

And sat.

_Gods, why is it always so hard to think up a topic?_ Kagome griped, glaring unseeingly at Sango's wall, which was covered with posters and several large, multi-pocket CD-holders.

One poster drew her attention. It was for some new band called Potential; contrary to the name, the band held little promise. Their songs were rather dull and cliché, and Kagome had already heard Sango bemoan the money wasted on their album and poster several times.

Very little potential…except for now. The band had set wheels turning in Kagome's head, and she grinned. _Potential…power…change…I've got it!_ She turned the pad so it was horizontal and began to draw eagerly. So preoccupied was she that she jumped violently when Sango's alarm clock went off. "Sh-shit!" she breathed, grabbing her eraser and shakily removing the harsh line her pencil had left when she jerked with surprise.

In the past twenty minutes, she had managed to rough out one person and had started on a second. For now, she closed her sketchbook and set it down on her bed.

A hand emerged from the Sango-cocoon, groping blindly for the clock. After fifteen seconds of fruitless, noisy searching, the hand's motions became jerkier, as if the owner were getting irritated.

Another ten seconds passed.

The hand was slapped against everything it touched in a distinctly pissed fashion.

Five more seconds.

"Damn clock!" Sango shouted, her voice slightly rough from sleepiness. She reared up out of the cocoon like a monster rising out of the deep blue sea. Yes, like a monster. A fresh-out-of-bed Sango was not exactly a treat on the eyes. Her ruby eyes were a little dull with grogginess, although an angry fire smoldered somewhere behind the sleepiness, and there was plenty of sleepy sand in her eyes. Her tangled black hair, sun-bleached to almost-very-dark-brown, was normally the envy of many girls at school. Kagome grinned wryly. If only they could see the Medusa-esque hairdo that Sango woke to every morning.

But minus the bed head and sleepy sand, Sango was a beautiful girl in a semi-plain, semi-exotic sort of way. Nonsensical as the description was, it was the only way Kagome could explain it. Her friend was strong, with long, lean muscles everywhere and a figure Kagome would die for. Her wine-colored eyes and long eyelashes made her seem sultry and otherworldly, even though Sango herself was anything but that. Yet at the same time, Sango's shy smile was sweet and made her seem young and in need of protection. Once again, Sango was anything but that.

Finally locating the elusive alarm clock, Kagome's roommate flopped down on her back with a sigh. She stared up at the ceiling and commented a perfectly normal tone of voice, "Sorry if I woke you, Kagome."

With a giggle, Kagome slid off her bed and knelt to reach the drawers under the bed. "Don't worry, I was already up. And it was quite amusing to watch."

"You say that every time," Sango said snippily, sitting up again. With a sigh, she dragged herself upright again, proving herself tall and in command of a predatory sort of grace, and approached her desk. There was a terrifyingly tough-looking brush lying on top of a pile of her Spring Break homework, which she picked up and began to run mercilessly through her hair. Between her winces and whimpers as thousands of knots snagged and were either straightened or ripped out of her scalp, she asked Kagome, "What time's the visit?"

She made a face. "9:30. You'd better make a run for the showers if you want to look presentable, or else they'll all be taken."

The left side of Sango's hair had become a long, sheer curtain of black that looked brown in the sunlight from the window. But the right was still a mess. With a deep breath, she attacked the chaos of hair and snorted, "You know I stopped caring years ago. Once you're past twelve or thirteen, it's over. Besides, _you_ haven't showered either."

Kagome had changed into a black T-shirt and a pair of jeans. Now, she moved to one strangely neat corner of her desk and began to poke through the box of earrings she kept there. "Like you, I don't care. _This_ is our home now. No point in leaving it for just one year." The black and silver earring in her hand suddenly halted halfway between the box and her ear. "One year," she breathed. "And then we're on our own."

Sango grimaced. Her hair was finally fully brushed, and she tied it back with a white ribbon just a few inches above the ends. The tip of the extremely low ponytail just brushed the waistband of the shorts she wore to bed. "Less," she corrected. "Try under three months. Once school's out for the year, we're moving, remember?"

As her roommate changed, Kagome gazed thoughtfully out the window. They had a view of the garden, for which she was grateful whenever she was strapped for sketch ideas. Since the window was to the west, she had even gotten in a few decent paintings of the sunset.

_Less than three months here_, she mused, lightly running her hand along the edge of the desk. _Less than three months before we have to strike out on our own…_

A chill of apprehension ran down Kagome's spine, but she shook it brusquely away. She had a job, she had her brain, and she had her friends. With that sort of combination, what could go wrong?

She almost immediately grimaced in a wry sort of way. What _couldn't_ go wrong, knowing her friends?

Sango was trying to decide between a blue baseball shirt and a layered pink shirt when someone knocked on the door. "Who is it?" Kagome called out, gesturing emphatically at the baseball shirt. Blue, surprisingly, emphasized her friend's elegant eyes, and the style of shirt was very flattering for her athletic body shape.

"Your gallant knights, fair ladies, come to escort you to your meal," said a smooth, dramatic voice.

At the sound, Sango almost viciously pulled her shirt on and closed her underwear drawer, a nervous blush on her face. "I'll never hear the end of it if he sees that," she muttered, glaring at the door. "All right, Miroku, come in!"

The door swung open, and the violet-eyed boy, ten years older than he had been in Kagome's dream, swept inside with a flamboyant bow. He was several inches taller than the already-tall Sango. His hair was cut at the shoulders and always bound back in a small ponytail, with a few stray bangs framing his relaxed face. His eyes were kind and almost always bright with cheerfulness, which, in combination with his fresh, sophisticatedappearance and natural charm, had several girls at school following him around with stars in their eyes.

Miroku was a looker…and infuriatingly enough, he knew it. He straightened out of his bow, smoothing down his light blue polo shirt, and flashed a winning grin at the two girls. "If the ladies would come with me?" He held out his two arms, waiting for them to link arms with him and allow him to accompany them downstairs.

Instead, they eyed his hands suspiciously. "You must think sleep curdles my brain or something," Sango said lightly, shaking her head and taking her cell phone off of her desk. Sticking it in the pocket of her loose capris, she pointed out, "We've known each other for ten years, Miroku. I know very well how much your hands 'fidget' whenever a girl is within reach. Honestly, I'm surprised no one's called you in for sexual harassment yet."

Dropping the knight act, Miroku shrugged easily and took a seat on Kagome's bed. She shifted away from his wandering hands, but otherwise didn't react; they were all too close to worry about little things like sitting on beds. Heck, they still snuck into each others' rooms for sleepovers! "Remember, Sango"—Kagome answered her friend—"most of those who are harassed are too starstruck by the beautiful Miroku Katen's wit and charm to mind."

Miroku nodded. "But of course! Can I help it if the ladies love me?"

His words were haughty, but his eyes were sparkling with mischief, so Kagome let it go. Instead, she turned to Miroku and asked, "And speaking of ladies, where's Inuyasha?"

"I heard that, Kagome." Another boy stood in the doorway, frowning at the three of them. Everything about him, his golden eyes, his silver hair, his twitching dog ears, his clawed hands, his posture, spoke of strength and defiance. He wore a simple red T-shirt and baggy black jeans, but the loose clothing did little to conceal the fact that he was _very_ well built. There were girls out there who liked him for that, for his blazing eyes, for his rough, devil-may-care face, but those who _admitted_ it were few and far between.

Kagome felt her good mood drop a few notches. _Don't think about that now_, she told herself, instead focusing on Inuyasha as he asked her, "Care to tell me exactly what you meant?"

She widened her eyes innocently at him. "Why, Inuyasha, don't tell me I've offended you! Is 'lady' not elevated enough for your majesty and grace? Perhaps 'empress'! Or 'goddess'!"

Miroku hid a smile and added, "Or maybe he thinks lady is _too_ high-born sounding for someone so modest as him. Maybe just 'young miss' or 'mistress' or 'little girl'—"

"Very funny, asshole," Inuyasha interrupted, ambling into the room and rapping sharply on Miroku's forehead with his knuckles. "Some friend you are."

"Ow…" Miroku massaged the offended spot and wiped an invisible tear from his eye. "You are too cruel…"

Rolling two fiery eyes to the ceiling, Inuyasha turned to Kagome. "As for _you_…"

Kagome squeaked and tried to duck, but he was too fast for her. He pinched one of her cheeks between his thumb and fingers and shook slightly. "Just who are you calling a lady?"

She winced a little. The pinch ached a bit, but that was to be expected; Inuyasha possessed the strength of ten men. Literally. They had compared him with the ningen gym teacher during their last fitness exam. But she was surprised that the pinch didn't hurt more. Considering Inuyasha's claws and generally antagonistic personality, it was easy to forget that he had iron control over his strength, enough control to prevent the knife-sharp claws from puncturing her cheek.

After a moment of thought that brought no witty response to mind, she gently tugged her cheek free. "Come on, O Violent, Scary One, we've got breakfast to eat."

Inuyasha grinned at her, revealing a set of abnormally sharp canines. "What, too sleepy to think just yet, Kagome?"

She stuck her tongue out at him and flounced out of the room. "Awake enough to beat you to the food," she retorted from the hallway.

Without a word, the hanyou raced out of the room and began heading for the stairs.

"Hey, no fair! You got a head start, _and_ I'm just a ningen! Stop right there! Inuyasha!"

-- -- --

"—and then Kouga pulled a hilarious face"—Miroku paused to demonstrate, letting his eyes widen to the size of purple dinner plates—"and started stammering all over the place. He kept saying things like, 'Yeah, you're pretty and all, and I think you're cool,' which of course did nothing to make Ayame think that he _didn't_ want to be her boyfriend."

Inuyasha smiled predatorily and tapped lazily at one of his claws. "The stuck-up wolf deserves it," he said happily.

The four of them were sitting on a pair of couches in the corner of the main lounge. Since the girls refused to sit with Miroku, the two boys were sitting together, as were the girls. They had spent the last half hour recalling little things that had happened to them last week before Spring Break had started, although Miroku's story of Ayame's love confession at the last track meet was certainly the most interesting.

Now, they lapsed temporarily into silence, letting the noise of the other people in the room drift over them. The little kids were playing something that looked like a tackle football spin on 'Duck, Duck, Goose.' The older ones, mostly between second and fifth grade, were clustered around the small TV that was connected to an old, clunky Playstation. Every once in a while, the girls would shriek and the boys would cheer as a spectacular shattering noise blasted out of the speakers. The middle schoolers were playing a whispered game of Truth or Dare, occasionally bursting into laughter and shouts of protest.

Kagome, Sango, Miroku, and Inuyasha were the only high schoolers here. All the other kids their age had already been adopted through visits like this one. Prospective parents strolled around the room, eyeing the children almost like horses they were interested in buying. The most by far were watching the little kids, although some were studying the elementary school kids and the middle-schoolers. Few people did more than glance in their direction.

But the few who _did_ pay more than cursory attention to them were entirely unwelcome.

"Take a look, Maki," they heard one man whisper to his wife. "The one with the silver hair…the _hanyou_…"

Inuyasha's claws tightened on the seat cushion.

"He's the heir to Tsuki Corporation."

"No kidding! What's he doing in a place like this?"

"I hear no one wanted to take him in."

Miroku poked Inuyasha's arm, and, with an effort, Inuyasha relaxed his hands, saving the cushions a violent shredding.

"Really? Why? He may be a hanyou, but he's rich all the same. There should be plenty of people out there who are willing to sacrifice all propriety for money."

"Yeah, but I've heard rumors…you know how the whole family was brutally murdered?"

"Yeah?"

"Some people say the _kid_ killed them all."

"No!"

"That's what they say."

"So, you know that Ayame?" Kagome finally said, making sure she spoke loudly enough to drown out the couple's scandalous whispers. Miroku and Sango immediately feigned attention, although they were all focusing on the suddenly smoldering Inuyasha. There had been a time when inuyoukai had been feared predators; the many years of peace between ningen and youkai had not entirely erased his kind's ability to get _very_ dangerous. "She's…um…she's lucky! I mean…she, um, had the courage to approach the guy she likes. I bet Kouga will really warm up to a forthright girl like her! Yeah, lucky her."

That last sentence did the trick. Inuyasha's ears had been swiveling between her and the conversations floating around the lounge, but now they were focused rather unnervingly on her. "What did you say?" he asked incredulously.

"I said Ayame's lucky," she said blithely, hiding a grim smile. _It's either that couple or me that he takes it out on…at least I can give as good as I get._

"To have a guy like Kouga, you mean?" Inuyasha asked, sounding slightly dazed.

She smiled brightly. "Yup! Someone like Kouga!"

"What, are you saying that _you_ want the mangy wolf?" His voice had darkened again, but he still looked more disbelieving than enraged.

"Really? Is that what you heard?" She feigned sudden disinterest, wondering if she could make herself blush on command. _Let's see…something embarrassing…tripping in the middle of the cafeteria…getting toilet paper stuck to my shoe…Miroku looking through all of my underwear…_ Her cheeks reddened at the thought, although not with humiliation.

The blush did it. "You _do_ want him for yourself!" Inuyasha squawked, glaring angrily at her.

_And now, I just hold on for dear life,_ Kagome thought fatalistically. _No stopping him once he's sunk his teeth this far in._

Of course, she wouldn't take her own advice. Kagome never 'held on for dear life' when she was fighting with her friends. When they dragged her through the mud, she fought back and dragged them around in turn. Although it had been years since she had fought with Sango or Miroku. It was Inuyasha who riled her the most.

"And why would you care if I did?" she said coolly, pretending to check her nails. "You've _got_ a girlfriend. Although I don't blame you if you've finally wizened up and seen that she's a complete—"

"Don't change the subject," he snapped, his voice doubling in its sharpness thanks to Kagome's reference to Kouga and the insult to his girlfriend. "The mangy wolf is a jerk. Why the hell would you like someone like him?"

Kagome tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Well, let's see. He's good-looking, he's athletic, romantic, and chivalrous, he has impeccable manners, he's practically the chief of police's son…" She trailed off and looked pointedly at her shell-shocked friend. "Why the hell _wouldn't_ I like someone like him?"

Seemingly in defeat, the hanyou slumped back into the couch. "Yeah, I guess that's true. Beggars can't be choosers, after all."

She had been preoccupied with worry that she'd have to stir Inuyasha up again to keep him from attacking the vicious gossips—but she immediately forgot her mission at Inuyasha's words. Her head snapped up. "_Excuse_ me?" she said softly, noticing that Sango was leaning away slightly.

He shrugged. "Beggars can't be choosers. I should have seen before; it's easy for a girl as desperate as you are to stoop so low as to pant after _Kouga_, of all people—"

"Are you implying that I'm just throwing myself at every single available man?" Kagome hissed, standing and walking to Inuyasha's couch. She loomed over him, glaring down at the apparently unperturbed hanyou.

"Well, how else is a bitch like you going to find herself a hunk of meat to call a boyfriend?"

"Don't call me a bitch!" she snarled quietly, prodding his chest. "And I'm not about to settle for just any 'hunk of meat', I'll have you know!"

"Really? What else would you call that stupid wolf?"

"Why are you so jealous of him?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Kouga! You wouldn't care if I had said Kuranosuke, or Hojo—"

"Wanna bet?"

"My point is, why are you always picking on Kouga?"

"_I'm_ picking on _him?_ Kagome, did you knock your stupid brain loose last night? _Who's_ been doing the picking for the past nine years?"

"Both of you, but—"

"So why are you only yelling at me?"

"Because you're one of my best friends, so I expected you to take the criticism calmly and gratefully. I don't like the idea of offending Kouga—"

"Yeah, some best friend _you_ are!"

"_Excuse me?_ Who rescued your stupid ass the last four times you cut chemistry? Who gave you her special glowstick when we were seven years old? Who has defended you _at every turn_—"

"Not at this turn, you haven't!"

"Because Kouga is my friend!"

"I thought _I_ was your friend!"

"But this is different!"

"Oh, I see how it is. Kouga, handsome Kouga, kind Kouga, track star, well-connected, chivalrous, polite Kouga, can't offend him, now, can we? He's just too perfect to offend, isn't he? No, I wouldn't dare defend a pure-blooded youkai, no, but my best friend who just happens to be a _hanyou_—"

"Shut up! You know I don't think that!"

"Then what the hell is all this about Kouga? What's so special about him that makes you so slow to insult him, huh?"

The whole conversation had been communicated through an exchange of whisper-shouts, so although some people were giving them odd looks, no one could hear their words. Kagome rubbed a hand across her face and tried to take a deep breath. "There is _nothing_ about Kouga that would make me prefer him as a friend over you."

Inuyasha leveled a long, cold glare at her before rising and shoving past her. He stomped out of the lounge and down a hallway that would lead to the garden.

Sango and Miroku turned to Kagome, smiling sympathetically. She made face at them and flopped back down beside Sango. "The things I go through for that stupid jerk…" she muttered.

"Perhaps you should explain to him that you were just trying to distract him?" Miroku suggested, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "Once you both have cooled off, that is."

Kagome smiled wryly at that. "Inuyasha, cool off? The boy's like the sun: always white hot."

They were interrupted from their chuckling, a bit forced on Kagome's part, by an old woman's voice. The speaker, Kaede, had aged since Kagome's dream had taken place; she had only been fifty then. But now she was sixty, a _real_ old lady. But her one good eye was still crackling with youthful energy; the other was covered with a pirate-esque patch. The loss of her eye had come with the total destruction of her first car, and also with a slight limp.

Yet she looked very kind and welcoming as she waved for attention at the front of the room. A vaguely familiar man was standing next to her, and he looked…odd. Kagome wasn't sure what it was. He was a ningen—his long, scraggly black hair had not covered the tell-tale ears—but his eyes were red, like Sango's. But no, that wasn't the strange part.

It almost seemed to Kagome as if something was flickering just under his pale skin, as if his smiling face was hiding some sort of roiling motion within.

She shook her head. _I'm just being ridiculous._

"Please, allow me to interrupt the visit for just a few moments with a quick announcement. I would like to introduce—to those of you who do not know him—Naraku Hoshii. He formerly served as Shikon Orphanage's manager's assistant"—ah, that was why he looked familiar—"but now he has been promoted. Manager Onigumo Houka has decided to retire early, and has recommended Mr. Hoshii to take his place. So in three weeks, our new manager will be this wonderfully capable man! Let's welcome him to his new position!"

Polite applause broke out through the room, but Kagome never noticed. She had slipped out of the room the moment Kaede stopped speaking, deciding to explain things to Inuyasha before his jealousy—the best name for his actions, even though he was already committed to someone—spun out of control and she ended up dealing with a week-long battle for understanding. It had happened before, and the results had not been pretty.

As she had guessed, Inuyasha was in the garden. He sat high up in the same tree that Kagome could see from her bedroom window, his arms crossed and a heavy frown on his face.

The moment she stepped outside into the cool March air, he said, "Are you sure you want to be here? Won't the wonderful, flawless Kouga pine for you?"

"Inuyasha, can you just give me a minute to explain?"

He looked away and grunted. Inuyasha-speak for: why the fuck have you waited this long to start talking sense, you moron?

"Back there, I was just trying to distract you. You were about to explode at that one couple, and we all know it would have ended badly. So I figured I'd distract you and let you vent some other way…and since you hate Kouga so much, I figured it'd be the easiest way to get you riled up."

Inuyasha turned toward her and gave her a long, unreadable stare. "So in there, you were just fucking around to keep me out of trouble?"

"Well…" Kagome shivered slightly. She wore only a T-shirt, and the snow had only just melted a week ago. It couldn't be warmer than 50 degrees. "I'll admit that I _did_ actually get upset toward the end, when you were calling me desperate and a bad friend…but, yeah, I just wanted to save you another grounding."

"Hm. Fine then." He seemed to relax and said nonchalantly, "Go back inside. It's cold."

"You come, too," she encouraged him, relieved that he had given way so easily. "You don't want to catch a cold, do you?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, and she had to laugh. "Okay, okay, you're a hanyou, you're tough, you can handle what we puny ningen can't…" She walked back to the door and, while opening it, paused and said, "See you at lunch?"

"At lunch."

"Okay."

"Later."

The door closed.

_(end)_

_-- -- --_

_Eep, quite long…oh well, a long chapter to make up for a long wait, right? Can't think of much to say...although according to my current plans, the plot will be moving much faster this time around. Until next time, then!_


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